


Where there’s smoke, there’s fire

by Pink_and_Velvet



Category: Top Gun (1986)
Genre: Bunk Sex, Guys kissing, M/M, Masturbation, Missing Scene, Porn with Feelings, Resolved Sexual Tension, Stalking, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-04
Updated: 2019-06-04
Packaged: 2020-04-07 22:07:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19094056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pink_and_Velvet/pseuds/Pink_and_Velvet
Summary: Iceman tells himself being on Maverick’s tail all the time is totally normal, right?





	Where there’s smoke, there’s fire

**Author's Note:**

> Why am I still writing these guys? Set straight after the *cough* notorious ‘Wingman’ scene, high on the adrenaline rush and unbearable sexual tension.
> 
> Title taken from Miami Sound Machine’s “Hot Summer Nights”, just after the infamous bar scene of too much eye fucking.
> 
> This piece was spurred on from my other Top Gun piece “Bogey On Our Six”- featuring the events on the carrier in greater (pornographic) detail. It’s not a required read as this fic also stands alone!

**Summer 1986- somewhere in the Indian Ocean**

Waves beat all sides of the USS Enterprise, the sea was wild and untamed. The horizon was unmistakable as glaring oranges and yellows painted the lonely skies. His eyes locked on a solitary figure, contrasting the beautiful scene as he headed down to the lower decks.

Something told Iceman, Mitchell needed to be alone for this. Mitchell needed to _**let him go**_ alone.  
Something else told Iceman that although he had been on Mitchell’s tail all evening, it had nothing to do with this newfound relationship or anything of the sort.

Iceman found a corner and immersed himself in the shadows. The distant roar of engines above seemed forgotten, overpowered by the crash of the waves below. The deck seemed free save for the two of them and all the inner demons he knew the renegade pilot could no longer keep at bay.

Maverick let the dog tags fly.

At that moment Iceman wandered over. Holding his breath, he cursed himself for thinking and over calculating wherever the hell he was going with this. His weary hazel eyes followed his cautious hand that would settle on Maverick’s side, no back, no his shoulder. Iceman smiled slightly as the shorter man turned to face him with a look he couldn’t read.

“Maverick?”

Maverick said nothing, quickly burying his face in Iceman’s warm chest. A fire shot through him.

“Pete.” Iceman snaked his arms around Maverick’s waist and up the knuckles of his spine. He sensed the trembling of the other man, fighting back tears that Iceman knew, Maverick would never let him see. His rival see.

But they weren’t rivals anymore. Not after today.

They stayed in the embrace for however long. Iceman revelled in how oddly safe he felt with his arms still clutching fast at Maverick’s flight suit. He only hoped, that he was doing the same for Maverick. Protecting him in all the ways he just couldn’t himself anymore.

When were they ever really just rivals?

“You’ve done the right thing Mav, Goose would’ve wanted you to keep flying.” Iceman cringed at the vulnerability in his voice and hoped Maverick hadn’t noticed. Although Iceman himself had wondered, wouldn’t Goose’s widow want the dog tags? He figured that Carol deserved something extra special to honour him with.

“It will all be… okay.” He cringed even more at that.

Maverick disengaged. Tearful green eyes turned back out to sea. Iceman followed the shaky hands as they gripped the rail. Iceman stepped forward, enveloping Maverick in his arms. He lay his head in the juncture of shoulder that met neck and immediately felt the tension leave Maverick’s body.

Iceman flinched at having Maverick so close like this and having him so quiet. It was pathetic and uncharacteristic; he really hadn’t expected to have his own cold exterior heat up so suddenly. Iceman pointedly ignored the fire igniting within him by pressing a small, cautious kiss to the side of Maverick’s temple.

_This was only about Maverick, ensuring that he knew somebody was there for him. Somebody was there and willing to fly with him, to take away all his-_

-Iceman gasped and looked down. Maverick’s hand had escaped his notice, it had left the safety of the rail ahead and had fallen to his crotch. Maverick was clutching at the ever-straining fabric.

“My bunk. 22:00 hours.” His heart clenched at the sight of Maverick’s mischievous grin.

Iceman’s mouth was working although he couldn’t form any words. He subconsciously licked his lips and nodded his head, that was enough of an agreement. Iceman stood stock still, breaths shallowing, hazel eyes widening, as Maverick drew closer to him. The touch of Maverick’s hand as he caressed his cheek sent shocks all through his eager body. Maverick’s hand caught his jaw and Iceman caught Maverick’s mouth. No tongues, just a perfect mould of the two men’s lips.

Iceman could feel Maverick’s cock twitch as he pressed himself up against him. He ground his own hips against him subconsciously (or totally consciously, he wasn’t sure) in response.

“22:00 hours Ka-zan-sky.” Iceman laughed slightly at the way Maverick stretched out his last name, punctuated with light touches to his chiselled chest.

Iceman’s hungry eyes followed him as Maverick strutted away. Iceman broke into a grin that was threatening to split his face apart.

 

The hours pressed on excruciatingly slow. Iceman had quickly gotten sick of all the congratulatory bear hugs and slaps on his back that his shoulder ached; so he departed and continued to roam alone across the deck. He tried with great determination to shake Mitchell from his head: the tight clutch Maverick had had on his flight suit and the tears he had hidden away. Maverick’s cock rubbing up against him.

Shit it was only just passing 20:00, how in the hell could he think straight with his erection pulsing like it was? Another ten minutes or so and he’d had it. Iceman began the long decent back down to his and Slider’s bunk, praying to whoever that Slider would be anywhere but waiting for him there.

Iceman considered himself lucky he ended up alone. He stripped himself of his rumpled flight suit and stood in the centre of the tiny space. He knew what he was about to do and told himself it was Mitchell’s fault, Mitchell was to blame for this and that Iceman himself had it coming.

Fuck it.

Iceman clambered into the tight, fold out bed and flung his shirt to the floor. His long, dexterous fingers caressed his skin, trailing torturously lower. Iceman palmed himself through the thin fabric and moaned, body shaking at the sudden touch. He took hold of his already leaking cock and hastily spread the pre-come all over his length.

Sure it was a risk but he was too worked up to care. No one but Slider would strut in here at any point. In theory anyway. And hell, he knew Kerner well enough, they’d seen enough of each other (numerous times) beforehand. He’d likely just roll his eyes and pull up a chair, knowing the good stuff was about to come and Kazansky himself might as-well milk it.

Iceman chucked his boxers to the floor, no hiding it now. He usually was an expert in maintaining his poise and could last a long time during sex… Not when Mitchell was concerned. Not with the promise of Mitchell’s mouth on him, Mitchell’s hands all over him.

One skilled hand teased with languid strokes while the other trailed light patterns around his balls. His cool composure didn’t last long, as the strokes were growing with vicious intensity and his moans shook the small cabin.

Iceman couldn’t give two shits if he had been heard in that moment, there was too much pent up energy that even he couldn’t control.

Goddamnit, Mitchell had done it to him again. 

A couple more minutes of his rough strokes and his hips desperate and bucking upward to meet his hand: he froze. Breath hitched, he shivered as his come spurts all over his hands and abdomen. He whited out, if only for a second, head tipping back, back arching up.

“Goddamnit Maverick” he let out in a breathless laugh, rolling over to shield his face in his pillow.  
His pants began to lessen, they deepen as he frantically tried to tame his erratic pulse. Although it seemed that he hadn’t been doing a good job, he almost missed the insistent banging on the door.

“Are you about done in their or what?”

How perfectly timed and cliché.

Iceman recognised the cocky shit’s tones in an instant. His eyes widened in embarrassment before narrowing in repulsion. He snapped upright, trying his best not to fall off of the bed as he scrambled to his feet, in search of his abandoned clothing.

“Ice. Open up. I’ve been out here for nearly ten minutes.” Maverick’s fist collided with the door again.

Shit shit shit, Maverick had heard everything. Iceman squirmed a little at that thought- having found his damp boxers and fuck, he didn’t even have any trousers laying around to begin with. His slick palm (he told himself it was only sweat) cautiously gripped the door handle and he took a deep, calming breath; anything to keep it slipping from him. Only now had he located his shirt on the other side of the room. Either way he was screwed. Maverick had heard too much.

The door flung open and Maverick sauntered in, cockiness in his stride. His eyes roamed all over a shirtless (so the usual) mussed and flushed (not so usual, although he could tell that Maverick seemed intrigued at that prospect) Iceman. Iceman who, gulped and turned away; doing a shit job at neglecting the distinct sheen of sweat that coated his tanned body.

Iceman inwardly cursed himself for acting so strange, so pathetic. Maverick had seen enough of him before and it was never this awkward.

Perhaps because Maverick would too be naked in those particular encounters. Unlike this.

Fuck this insecurity. That and, the savoured thought of Maverick wrapped in a towel. Fuck it all.

“Quite a show you had going on in here Ice—man. It’s too bad, I didn’t have a front row seat.” Maverick stated, his hand landing on his zip, he let his flight suit fall.

Iceman gasped, hazel eyes widening as Maverick’s hands tugged at the hem of his own shirt. His eyes fixed on Maverick as Maverick peeled his shirt off, muscles flexed, in what seemed like both irritating and gratifying slow-motion. Sensing his cool composure taking its toll once more, Iceman trained his eyes to land elsewhere… although the sight of Mitchell’s erection was somehow so perfectly highlighted.

Iceman tried to change course. Maverick drew himself in closer. Close enough that he could feel Maverick’s breath tickle his neck, Iceman swore under his breath.

Maverick just laughed. “C’mon Kazansky. Ready for round two yet?” Hands gesturing dangerously close to Iceman’s cock. 

“Perhaps Mitchell, if it was anywhere near 22:00. What the hell are you doing here so early? Couldn’t keep it in your pants long enough?” He quipped, eyes now firmly on the ceiling.

“Like you’re one to talk Ice. I would say I’m sorry for being early but-“ Iceman had his eyes screwed shut as he felt a rough hand grab his jaw and turn his face. The hand coaxed his head down to meet Maverick.

“-of course you’re not.” Iceman interrupted, in a short and laughable breath.

“You know it, shithead.”

That was it. Iceman was lured into Maverick’s open arms, being pushed back towards the fold out bed. His lips found Maverick’s, tongue prodding against him as he forced Maverick’s lips to part. The kiss deepened and their bodies were rutting against each other. Iceman shoved Maverick down onto his bed, yanked his briefs off of him. He let his own boxers follow.

“So you are ready for round two then?” Maverick winked and shit, Iceman was out of control again.

He was overwhelmed by Maverick’s sudden strength, then pinned by his taunting mouth as it crushed itself against Iceman’s own parted lips. Iceman was just thankful neither of them had collided with the wall as Maverick had flipped them both.

He was glaringly aware as Maverick’s hand sunk lower, his lips nipped at Iceman’s jaw. He bit at his ear.

Remembering that he could, no, should touch Maverick; one hand cupped his perfectly- round and perfectly tiny ass as the other clutched at his hair. One nimble finger skirted down Maverick’s back, it traced rough patterns right down to his asshole.

Their eyes locked and Maverick simply nodded. Only the sounds of Mitchell’s breath hitching filled the room when Iceman added another finger. He stretched and filled him. He smirked to himself, as his fingers sunk in deeper. All the way in, his Navy ring being the cut off point. Iceman rolled Maverick over this time, he caught his suddenly sweat- soaked body with ease like a true gentleman; before he rolled Maverick too far off the edge of the confined bed.

Iceman loomed above him, taking in the sheer desire in Maverick’s eyes. Maverick’s face was flushed, he was covered in sweat. Maverick impossibly scooted closer, legs going limp as Iceman grabbed them. He set them down atop his shoulders.

Iceman’s plush lips searched for Maverick’s, trailing up his throat and jaw and he pushed in slowly. He stopped and retreated slightly, fighting to deny the urge to ravish him right then and there He glanced down, a frown settled across his face as he took in the sight of Maverick’s creased face. He took in the desperate whimpers. 

Then something within him breaks.

Maverick rolled his hips up to meet him and Iceman thrusted in deep, all restraints forgotten.

Iceman endures the little thrill bought on by the sounds Maverick made beneath him, the moans and grunts that escaped. They barely dulled the slapping of slick skin on skin. He’s picked up his pace and his head comes to rest on Maverick’s shoulder, his own grunts growing in intensity. Iceman watched; he’s hypnotised by how Maverick’s own clumsy hand tugged at his dick, in time with the long and deep roll of Iceman’s persistent hips.

Another couple of thrusts, Maverick cried out, he shivered as his hips buckled with Iceman a final time. His come coated Iceman’s heaving chest. Iceman has to pull out then, in one swift move. He grabbed his cock and jerked himself off over a breathless Maverick. His rapid strokes are fuelled by Maverick’s moans, Iceman is threatened to come apart.

He learned his head down, to catch Maverick’s mouth with his own. His hand stroked himself faster, more chaotic. Something in him stops. His hand stilled and then he’s hastily broken away.

Iceman shudders, let out a delicious moan. He quickly resembled his movements, as his come coated his own hand and Maverick’s stomach. He had to draw out the intense climax for as long as he could stand it. 

Iceman fought to keep his weight off of Maverick. He settled for resting his head, that is suddenly too heavy to keep up, on Maverick’s broad chest. Iceman deftly avoided the wet patches on Maverick’s skin as he laid himself out on top of him.

It isn’t long after, that Mitchell’s eyes flicker closed and Iceman heard him let out a yawn.

He’s barely done catching his breath when reality settled back in. He glanced up at Maverick, who met his hazel eyes, tired and satisfied.

“Mav… Mav. You have to get out of here.” Iceman stated in between delivering kisses all over his flushed cheeks.

Their eyes locked and Maverick nodded. Iceman knew that he didn’t want him to go, although they wouldn’t be alone like this forever. Iceman disengaged as he cautiously sat up, he watched with interest as Maverick hunted for his abandoned clothing- maybe or maybe not as Maverick wiggled his naked ass in his direction. 

“More fun than your hand right?” He heard the breathless chuckle as it erupted from Maverick, he rolled his eyes and followed him to the door- boxers in hand.

At the door, Iceman reigned him in for a very possessive kiss. He grabs his ass and ground his own hips against Maverick.

“Same time tomorrow, Kazansky?”

“Count on it, asshole.”


End file.
